At the Feet of the Grass
by Tripleguess
Summary: This had definitely not been part of the plan.


**At the Feet of the Grass**  
a Munto fanfiction by Tripleguess  
Genre: Character/Drama  
Rated PG  
January 02, 2008  
Summary: This had definitely not been part of the plan.

It had seemed so simple. Difficult, yes, but straightforward: fall through time, find the child of destiny, bring her back. Gift wrapping optional.

He hadn't expected her to be afraid.

That was only the first surprise. He was sure she had seen him the first time, if only because she looked straight at him and cringed when he held out his hand. He was sure she was the one, if only because he recognized her from his vision. But she looked like a scared little girl... not the key to the future. She made no move to obey his curt summons.

He was furious when the contact broke, driven half mad by the urgency of his mission. He knew what was happening above his head. He knew they were fighting and dying.

He knew what would happen if he failed.

Unfortunately, he had all day to calm down. By the time he was ready to open another portal, her presence had mingled with so many others that they obscured her, like trumpets drowning out a wind chime. She had a quiet echo. She was impossible to pinpoint.

In the meantime, he forced himself to stop imagining carnage-strewn battlefields and think the problem through. If she didn't know who he was, then... maybe she didn't know how badly they needed her. Maybe he ought to explain the situation.

It was difficult to boil it all down into just a few sentences; after all, the crisis had been in the making for eons. But he did his best. And when he sensed her again that evening, she was almost alone. He summoned all his strength and opened a portal.

She still didn't come.

But she answered him this time, gave him her name in halting syllables. Surprised him again, by asking his in turn; a little bolder, her expression firming as the shock subsided. After all the time he'd spent composing his recital, even her rudeness couldn't quite distract him from giving it.

Her gaze turned inward, as though considering.

Then it was her turn to frighten him.

"Is this the same dream I always have?"

The last shreds of his strained, desperate patience broke, and he shouted at her. _"It's not a dream!"_

The contact broke. Emptiness rushed in to blot out her presence.

Alone in the wasteland once more, he could only sink to his knees in horror, feeling sick to his stomach in every sense of the word.

Ryuely had given her eyesight. His parents had given their lives. His entire nation was depending on him to bring this last, desperate hope home. _And she didn't even think he was real!_

His native tenacity came to the rescue, setting his jaw in a stubborn line. No one dismissed the Magical King; not even the child of destiny.

Even if that king was slowly dying.

He knew there was no Akuto here. He could guess how much time he had left.

He ruthlessly cut that time in half a few hours later, forcing a portal when her presence distilled nearby in the cold night air.

She wasn't happy to see him. She answered only because he wouldn't to go away. Munto, accustomed to swift obedience almost from birth, was shocked when she flatly refused to come. He swallowed his pride and tried to reason with her, using the only words he knew. Rough words. True words.

He'd never been much of a diplomat.

She lunged to her feet then, voice rising, eyes snapping, and to his mind there came unbidden the image of a frightened animal, snarling through its pain.

The image was forgotten as she stung his pride. Phantom that she took him for, maybe the honorifics seemed pointless to her, but he couldn't help himself, even as some cooler part of his mind mused that arguing with the world's last hope might not be the wisest tactic at his disposal. Between his heated protestations of wounded dignity and the sudden, shooting pains of Akuto depletion, he almost didn't hear what she said, or see the hesitant hand reaching out for him.

"I'll listen."

He slammed to earth, the taste of blood in his mouth, her words ringing in his ears.

"Why don't you ask someone more special than me?"

X X X

The next time he broke through, it was a struggle to stay conscious. Sharp words died on her lips as she took in his form; knotted with pain, head bowed in exhaustion. She even began to approach him, hands raised in concern.

"Are you all right? You look like you're really going to die."

Even so, she retreated when he struggled to his feet. (He was determined not to shame himself or his people by asking her help on his knees.) As he spoke, her brow creased in frustration.

"I don't understand! I don't understand at all!"

But he did. Maybe it was his proximity to death; something clicked, and he seemed to see her for the first time.

It wasn't that she didn't want to help him.

_She didn't know who she was._

The idea was startling. It seemed impossible that she could _not_ know, and yet he was suddenly sure that she didn't. He felt a surge of compassion. Despite the pain he carried, he'd always known exactly who he was. He was the son of hope and descendant of kings, born against law to save his people from certain extinction. That knowledge had been his comfort and his strength on his darkest nights.

She, on the other hand, could only stare at him in genuine confusion every time he asked for her strength.

How lost she must feel.

For just a moment, he set aside his fears for his kingdom and spoke to her gently, an involuntary smile softening his features as he looked beyond what she could do for him and into the source of her hesitation. It was strange to think that the key to the future might need his help.

"Believe in your power, Yumemi."

Then danger flashed across his mind and he whirled without thinking, throwing himself between Yumemi and the attack. In his weakened state, facing a mighty weapon of the Ancients -- the situation seemed hopeless.

But as even Gunther knew, Munto never gave up. Somehow, at the last vital instant, he took off its head.

It cost him too much. When the exhausted king opened his eyes, it was to see his beloved land falling.

_Yumemi._

He felt hot and faint; it was hard to think. Even his anguish for his people seemed a distant thing. The rock at his back felt blissfully cool.

He was almost finished.

Had she heard his call? Had she seen their sky falling? Could she sense his presence, the way he could hers?

He didn't know. In any case, she called his name, and as he looked up he had to catch his breath -- she was really there.

He did his best to hide his relief, but it was an effort. "You're late."

He couldn't hold on any longer. He leaned back against the rock as his lower body began to dissolve, feeling strangely calm. At least he wasn't alone.

"Hurry, Yumemi." What was he saying? His thoughts swam together with visions of home and collided with the laws of time. There was a wall between them even he couldn't scale, a barrier no one could breach.

His eyes drifted closed. He was so tired.

"I believe you, Munto."

It was several heartbeats before the crackle of resisting dimensions finally sank into his fading consciousness, several more before he grasped what it meant. He looked for her almost instinctively, caught his breath once again.

This frail girl was doing the impossible. She was forcing her way through time.

She smiled at him as their fingertips grazed, briefer than a chaste kiss, ignoring one last token demand for proper honorifics as she called his name, and he knew that she was no longer afraid of him.

That smile stayed with him as the dimensions rebounded, sweeping her away. He spoke her name once more, full of gratitude, hand still outstretched, not knowing whether or not she heard him as the glow of Akuto swallowed her up.

The flood of memories that spilled through him along with the Akuto wave, the ache of loss as she disappeared, the shimmering tears she left behind -- none of that had been part of the plan.

Technically, his mission had failed. But the kingdom's fall was reversing, and the very air about him hummed with Akuto. As he pushed off the rock to stand on his own two feet -- his own two feet! -- he could only feel grateful that he was alive at all.

He could still feel her. Her echo was far softer than it should have been, but there was no one around, so he could still sense it. It almost felt like she was asleep...

Of course. He'd been watching her face; crossing time had been difficult, even for her. She must have passed out from the effort. He frowned, bothered that the possible dangers of time-crossing hadn't occurred to him before. It had seemed a moot point, really, with both worlds on the brink of destruction. Still...

"Thank you... Yumemi."

She couldn't hear him. It didn't seem like enough. But at the moment, it was all he had to give her.

**-The End**

DISCLAIMER: You know what's coming. This story not created, acknowledged or endorsed by Kyoto Animation or Yoshiji Kigami, to whom all relevant characters and trademarks belong. No infringement is intended. _At the Feet of the Grass_ itself is fan domain and may be freely recopied and archived. As always, reader feedback is nice! )


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